by Dani Pettrey
“My presence will make him more likely to open the door.”
He hung his head, knowing she was right.
He held her close to his side, sheltered as much as possible by his body as they approached the trailer. Two metal steps led to the door.
“Let me.” She stepped up to the door and knocked. “Mr. Ricker. I’m hoping you can help me.”
The front curtain slid an inch to the side.
“I just need a minute of your time,” she said.
“We can come back with the Feds, if you’d rather,” Griffin offered.
Finley frowned back at him.
“What?” He shrugged. This was taking too long.
The door opened and a burly man as wide and tall as the doorway stood staring down at them. He glared at Griffin and then smiled at Finley. “What can I do for you, darling?”
“We need to ask you about Kevin Murphy and Vern Michaels.”
He went to shut the door, but Griffin wedged himself in. “I was serious about the Feds. We don’t want to cause you any trouble. Just ask a question or two.”
“That’s all Vern did, and he’s dead.” He looked past them, gazing at the ridgeline arching around them.
Griffin quickly shifted position to shield Finley.
“We just need to know what you told Vern and we’ll leave,” she pleaded.
“I can’t do that. I’ve been warned.”
“By Kevin Murphy?”
Recognition sparked momentarily on his face, but he remained silent.
“We just need to know where we can find him.”
“You find him. You die.”
“Please,” Finley said.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m probably already a dead man.” He nervously scanned the perimeter surrounding his home, sweat beading on his brow.
“Then help us catch him before he can kill you or anybody else.”
“Springer Road. There’s a gate at the end. Keep going.”
Before they could ask anything else, he slammed the door.
Griffin pulled his cell as he escorted Finley back to his truck.
Declan answered on the second ring.
“I need what you can pull up on Springer Road. I’ll text you the coordinates. I get the feeling we’re close.”
Springer Road was less than ten miles away. Declan instructed them to wait at the feed store a couple miles from the turnoff until he could provide Google Earth images, so they could at least have some idea of what they were walking into.
Nearly an hour passed, and Griffin’s patience was evaporating. “I know how to scout. I can go in and assess.”
“Declan said to wait.”
“Listen to the lady,” Declan said, rapping on the pickup window.
Griffin turned, ready to throttle him. He’d heard a car approach. Seen a man exit and move toward the store, but Declan was supposed to be in the hospital. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be recuperating.”
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you enjoy this one without me, did you?”
“Or me?” Parker said from Finley’s side of the vehicle.
“Both of you?”
“Actually . . .” He gestured to his Expedition, where Tanner waved from the backseat.
Griffin looked back at Declan. “You can’t be serious?”
“She hid in the back. Didn’t know she was with us until we were halfway here. It’s a wonder we were able to get Kate and Avery to hang back. Now, let’s get to the matter at hand. I thought you and I would approach the house,” he said to Griffin.
Parker shook his head. “No way I’m sitting this one out, especially with you not at full capacity.”
“Parker’s a good shot,” Griffin said to Declan. “We could use him. There’s a strong chance Ricker panicked and warned Kovac. And an even greater chance he’s got the perimeter around his place rigged to alert him to intruders.”
“All right,” Declan said. “Let me call in a team.”
“Kovac would see them coming a mile away, and we’d lose him. Us, he’d believe he could take.”
“So essentially we’re serving ourselves up as sitting ducks.” Parker gave two sarcastic thumbs-up. “Good plan.”
Griffin smiled. “Exactly.”
They drove the couple of miles to the Springer Road turnoff, putting together their strategy. Declan and Parker would take the lead, and Griffin would follow behind, to provide cover. Fortunately, Finley and Tanner had agreed to remain in Declan’s vehicle at the feed store, at least until they’d swept and cleared the place, but he’d left his snub nose .38 with Finley, just to be safe.
Griffin stopped his pickup at the gate, and Parker looked back at Griffin one last time before he and Declan headed in on foot for Kovac’s cabin. Griffin moved swiftly, having scoped out and studied the terrain via the satellite footage the Bureau provided.
Soon, cresting a low ridge, Griffin spotted Kovac’s cabin—and with it, Declan and Parker. Declan signaled to Parker for them to split up so they could cover both the front and back entrances.
All was quiet. Maybe they had actually gotten the drop on Kovac.
Targets ripe for the picking thanks to Ricker’s tip. Ricker—he’d take care of him later. Stupid man, thinking his confession would save him. Fact was, he’d still given him up, and for that he’d die.
Kovac tracked the two men moving across his property, deciding which to drop first.
He traced from one to the other. Eeny, meeny, miny . . .
Finley shifted uneasily in Declan’s vehicle, Tanner doing the same.
“How much longer?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Finley shook her head, her hand gripping the gun. “I don’t normally work this end of things. I’m always called in after the fact.”
After.
She prayed after included the man she loved and their friends all safe and sound.
With Kovac behind bars and Rativik on the way to stand trial for his war crimes. His new identity hadn’t been cracked. Marley might have discovered his alias in her months of searching, but if she had found the evidence locating him, it was most likely in Paul Geller’s storage facility, which they still hadn’t been able to locate.
The window smashed beside her head, glass shattering. She swallowed her scream, lifting the gun as an armed man lunged at her, knocking the weapon from her hand with brute force. Shoving her aside, he retrieved the weapon and slid it into his pants while keeping his gun firmly fixed on her. With a grunt, he climbed into the vehicle beside her.
He pressed the muzzle of the gun under her chin. “Stay put or she dies,” he told Tanner.
46
He exhaled, waiting for the natural pause before inhaling, his finger squeezing the trigger. Moe.
The rifle kicked from his grasp before he could fire.
McCray.
He rolled, leaping up into a crouch, pulling his knife.
McCray stood before him, gun aimed at his chest.
He rushed. The coward had left the profession. He wouldn’t pull the . . .
McCray’s gun fired.
Impact like a sledgehammer collided with his chest.
A second report and—
Griffin’s breath moved in and out in white puffs, birds screeching from the trees, their wings flapping upward in a frenzy.
He took two steps and crouched over Kovac’s lifeless form.
One shot to center mass. One to the head.
“Griff?” Declan called over the radio, his tone urgent.
“Yeah.”
Declan’s relieved exhale said it all. “How many shots?”
“Two, as always with a rusher. You heard another shot too?” He’d heard it in between his shots, off in the distance.
“Yeah. Sounded like it came from the feed store’s direction.”
Finley.
Finley squeezed her eyes shut as the gun fired and then opened her eyes, anticipating heaven. But she was still in the Expedition,
Tanner’s shrieks ringing in her ears.
She glanced over to find Mark Perera pulling a dead man out of the car, letting his body slump to the pavement.
Finley looked at the man on the ground. He looked familiar. “Is that . . . ?”
“Rativik,” Perera said with disgust as he opened her door and bound her hands with a zip tie. “You can thank me later.” He slammed the door and she twisted in her seat as he opened the back door and bound Tanner as well. As he pulled the zip tie tight, he turned his head slightly, his gaze malicious. “Hello again, Tanner. Told you I’d find you.”
Finley swallowed. So that’s why he was in the U.S. Did he know about the evidence Tanner possessed?
Striding to the driver’s side, Perera climbed into the Expedition, and shut the door. “He and Kovac knew you were coming. Rativik was watching when you arrived at the feed store.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re an awfully bold woman asking so many questions with a gun at your side.” The barrel pressed into her ribs. “I was waiting too. Tracking Rativik.”
As Perera pulled out onto the paved road, he glared in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to take a little drive. You try anything, Tanner, and what Rativik said goes—your friend dies.”
Finley bit the inside of her cheek. If Perera was right and Kovac knew they were coming . . .
Her stomach burned. Griffin.
Please, Father, let them be okay. Let Griffin’s plan work.
She glanced at Springer Road as they flew past, spotting Griffin’s truck barreling down it toward them.
Thank you, Lord.
She needed to stall. To do something. Perera was intent on killing Tanner if not them both.
“Where are you taking us?”
He didn’t respond.
“What are you going to do to us?”
He looked over at her as if they all knew the answer to that one.
“Then why bother saving us from Rativik?”
“He and his cohort tried to set me up for Marley’s murder. That’s unacceptable. Saving you was just a fortunate by-product for you.”
“Until you kill us.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
“For how long?”
“That depends on my needs.”
She cringed at the darkness welling in his eyes.
“Let me guess. We’re loose ends, just like Rachel Lester.”
He smiled. “Ah, so you figured out Rachel was my mole. Impressive.”
“And you killed her.”
“My associate handled that. I prefer not to get my hands dirty unless absolutely necessary.”
“Where’s he taking them?” Griffin asked, flying down the road.
Declan called in and arranged for the Bureau to track his car. “Uh-huh,” he said over the phone. “What’s ahead? Any exit strategy? How far? Okay.” He hung up. “There’s a small airstrip twenty miles from here.”
“Great. If Perera gets them on that plane, we’ll lose him.”
“Not if we beat him there.”
“What if we’re wrong? What if he isn’t headed there? What if he beats us there?”
Declan looked at Griffin. “You make the call.”
Griffin pulled up a map of the area on his phone. “Call in a rapid-response team to the airstrip.”
“And us?”
“We’re going to intercept them.”
Declan’s eyes widened. “And then do what?”
Griffin accelerated. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
Parker gripped the back of his seat. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
47
Finley struggled to slip her hands free, but the zip tie Perera had slid on was too tight. She glanced back at Tanner struggling to do the same.
Perera cut right onto a side road, wheels squealing with the maneuver.
Think, Finley. She searched the vehicle for a weapon.
They approached another intersection, flying by it.
Where was he taking them? And what was he going to do when he got there?
Her stomach flipped, panic pulsating along her nerve endings.
Please, Lord, let Griffin reach us in time.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
They flew past another intersection and quickly approached another. She needed to start paying attention to the street names and direction they were headed.
She turned to look at the green road sign, praying she’d be able to read it at the blinding speed they were traveling at, and blinked as Griffin’s truck came barreling at them.
“Hold on,” she screamed at Tanner as his truck plowed into the side of them, just front of center, veering them toward the tree line.
Perera cursed as they collided, wedging the Expedition between Griffin’s truck and a tree.
Finley’s head rung.
The air bags deflated and she blinked. Her door opened and Griffin’s sturdy arms wrapped around her, lifting her from the crumpled vehicle.
She collapsed into his hold as he carried her from the smoke. “Tanner?”
“Parker will get her,” he said.
He settled her on the ground and knelt beside her, examining her injuries.
“Perera?”
“Looked unconscious, but you were my priority. I’m sure Declan’s on it.”
He clasped her hand, then stood. “I’m going to grab the first-aid kit from the truck.”
Truck.
“Did you seriously ram into us?”
“It was the best scenario.”
“To hit us broadside?”
“Not broadside. A few inches to the right of it.”
She stared at him as if he had three heads. Was he insane?
“It was the spot for the least chance of harm to you, but allowed me to maneuver your vehicle.”
Parker sat Tanner on the ground beside her.
She looked woozy, but she insisted on getting to her feet, cradling her arm as she did so.
“I think it’s broken,” he said.
“Perera?” she asked, trying to push past him.
He stopped her. “Declan said he’s pinned in the vehicle. EMTs are on the way.”
Finley sat in the back of the ambulance, a blanket draped across her shoulders.
She’d been cleared to go home. Just a few bumps and bruises.
Tanner had a broken right arm but refused to leave until Perera was officially in federal custody.
With Tanner’s evidence, Rativik’s murder, and their abduction at gunpoint, Perera wouldn’t be leaving the country or the penal system anytime soon.
Griffin took a seat beside Finley as another ambulance pulled away with Perera inside, trailed by federal escort vehicles.
“You doing okay?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face.
“Still in shock, I think. I can’t believe you hit us, but . . .” She clutched his hand. “So thankful you did. We all are. You saved our lives.”
“It was the safest calculated risk to rescue you. If Perera had reached that airfield . . .” He squeezed her hand.
They both knew what that could have meant.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “You owe me a date.”
He chuckled. “I do?”
“Most definitely.”
“Not that I’m complaining at the prospect of an official date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but why do I owe you?”
“First, you interrupted my last date halfway through, and second, you just sideswiped the vehicle I was riding in.”
A mischievous grin quirked on his lips. “I’d ram your vehicle anytime if it meant protecting you.”
She smiled back, a laugh at the precious absurdity of it all tickling her throat with a giggle. “And I love you for that.”
“I love you too,” he breathed against her lips.
Epilogue
Finley watched as Griffin ambled to her door, a swagger in his st
ep, a soft smile on his lips.
He paused on her doorstep and took a breath before knocking.
“Pace yourself,” she whispered, forcing herself not to lunge at the door. Anticipation had spiraled through her all night, giving her little sleep, and it was not relenting in the least now. All from the thought of spending the weekend with Griffin and his family. This was another big step in the direction she prayed they were moving.
“Hi,” she blurted as she flung open the door.
Griffin’s smile widened. “You look beautiful.” His gaze thoughtfully lingered over her.
“Thanks. You look handsome, as usual.”
He glanced down at his turkey sweater, and color flushed his cheeks. “It was a gift from my mom.”
“That’s sweet.” She couldn’t believe she was going to spend the holiday with Griffin and his folks. She was excited and antsy to get going.
He inclined his head. “You ready?”
“Yes. Let me just grab the cookies.”
“Cookies?”
“Oatmeal raisin. I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”
“I’m sure my folks will appreciate them.”
“It was no trouble.” That was a lie. She could cook, but when it came to baking, something always seemed to short-circuit. She prayed they came out edible.
She climbed in his new truck as he held the door open for her, wondering again why she hadn’t just used Le Mont’s Bakery.
Because she wanted it to be from the heart. She just prayed it didn’t give theirs an attack.
Griffin settled in beside her and pulled away from the curb.
“So tell me more about them.” Their introduction at the hospital had been so short, and everyone had been focused and deep in prayer for Declan’s recovery, not on chitchat. Griffin had introduced her to his folks, but today—this weekend—would be the first time she was truly meeting them, getting to know her possible future family, and she couldn’t wait.
“Again?” he smiled.
She’d been asking questions since she met them at the hospital. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I think it’s awesome you’re so excited to get to know my folks better. They are going to love you.”